Paroxysm
by Zerepak
Summary: Liquid ruby flowed through his teeth. It was a sensation he prayed never to face. This particular flavor was repugnant, putrid, the blood tasted soiled. This woman was not supposed to die. Certainly not like this. One-Shot.
1. Phobetor

_**Paroxysm (n): **_

_**1. A sudden, intense expression of strong feeling. **_

_**2. Violent disruption of power.**_

**Rated for gore and _implied_ sexual violence. Oh, and this is an about an OC.  
**

* * *

1879- Russo-Turkish War.

...

Liquid ruby flowed through his teeth. It was a sensation he prayed he would never have to face. This particular flavor was repugnant, _putrid_, the blood tasted soiled. This woman was not supposed to die. Certainly not like this.

Falling droplets of blood joined hers over the ever whitening skin of her face as red tears began to flow and drip from his chin, further dirtying her pristine flesh.

'She will _never_ be yours,_ demon._'

The threat laced within those words had never truly hit their mark until this very moment as she lay dead in his arms. He curled around her body protectively, clutching her small head to his chest as the rest of her mangled body sprawled out in a disheveled, vulgar, manner between his slightly parted knees.

That foul excuse of a human had been right. She could never be his. And now, as her broken, _violated_ body lay in ruins, slathering red bruises over his clothes, he felt the weight of responsibility at his negligence. Now he mourned the loss of the only purity in his life due to his own reckless indecision.

Together they had recovered from their personal Hells. They escaped purgatory better known child slavery as a pair: one living, the other dead. Though, it would now seem that her Hell had far exceeded his comprehension.

He always imagined that in a time of dire need, in the unimaginable event of her premature death, he would turn her. Then, although she would lose the perfect innocence of her soul, she could stay with him and continue shielding him from this suicidal hate that currently felt exceptionally irrepressible. Tremors fell over his body as he tried to contain himself as not to crush her delicate little corpse.

_No_.

He felt her body begin to stiffen as rigor mortis slowly set in and this set off a chain reaction of violence that he was hard pressed to suppress. He couldn't lose this small shred of restraint she had given him. Not now. For now he was fated to endure an immortal life without light, without his guardian angel.

Finally gaining the courage to look at her face fully, his typically uninhibited grin nonexistent, it was replaced instead with a hard line as he traced her soft features with crimson eyes, then once more with the gentle pad of his fingertip to memorize her every line, curve and imperfection. The loveliness of her features aside, her pallid throat was completely eviscerated and torn in two from where he desperately attempted hoarding her dying soul in the darkness by biting her. His eyes traveled to her habit. It was torn from stomach to hip and the entire hem was forcibly removed, blood from the savage act of defloration evident across the white fabric. His stomach turned. He wanted to believe she was simply too holy to become a vampire.

His eyes wandered down the stretch of her left arm to her fingers, then over that blasted piece of metal encircling the space above one knuckle engorged with death. He couldn't help but utter a choked laugh, which sounded more like a sob. Even as she was being brutalized she refused to fight back, her hands were without cuts and defensive wounds. It was just the way she was, she likely prayed for the forgiveness of her attacker as he tore her body apart.

It was still there, mocking him, on her small hand was a small golden ring. His eyes squeezed shut to cut off the vicious screaming in his head.

A purity ring.

For years he tried to woo her with everything in his power. It became a game to make her give in to him like so many women had in the past, to make her give her body to him and no one else until the end of eternity. To make her marry him, sleep with him, stay with him, forever. His unbeating heart twisted painfully in his chest at all of the time he wasted on something so trivial as sex. She never did give him what he wanted. She was too good. Far too good for a diabolical creature such as him.

Slow crunching footfalls came to his ears as a pair of white boots with gold trim appeared in the top corner of his visual field, distracting him from the dead girl. There were small stains of blood on this one's robes, a pair of scythes on his back.

"Бедняжка" that slimy, accented voice came, "Это не должен был быть этот путь…" the male chided from above in a language the vampire could not understand, "Она была весьма _красотой_, она была нет?"

He understood that word. Artemy had spoken it so many times, how could he ever forget?

_Красотой_. That monster called _his_ Artemy _beautiful_? Yes, she _had_ been. But that was not for her desecrater to judge.

Violent fury overtook the vampire. He reached up with one long arm and gripped the skin of his smirking enemy's face, separating it from the adipose tissue beneath, then sloughing the loose dermis from its host, discarding it casually, yet, carefully as not to taint his fallen lover's corpse.

The Count stood as fresh blood dripped from his fingertips to cast a long moonlit shadow over the squirming man who gripped the exposed muscle of his face, screaming in pain.

Those were the last words that profane mongrel would ever utter. Aside from the bloodcurdling cries for absolution that echoed across the landscape as he tore the vile excuse for a human apart, savoring each cry and plea with satisfaction.

Vlad Dracula grimaced when the skinned man began moving, reaching out in desperation.

Even in death this creature had the audacity to reach out to her with an arm only composed of blood and torn muscle. The unnervingly calm vampire ceased the man's diminutive progress by crushing the extended arm under a heavy boot, causing it to explode into a fine ocean spray of red.

The man let out a strangled yell just before Vlad severed his throat, transforming the helpless scream into desperate gargles and voiceless gasps for air.

Vlad was unwilling to allow any part of his angel's ruiner to become part of his soul by sinking his teeth into the squirming mass of pitiful gasps and tears at his feet. Though the fear in the damned creature's eyes may have made it worth the sacrifice.

Small pitiful garbled noises escaped the skinned man's disfigured throat as the massively tall, dark haired vampire drove his daggar-like fingers through his chest to dig out the monster's beating heart, only to crush it in front of his fluttering eyes. Only when the man was reduced to a twitching worm did the vampire toss the deflated sack of meat to the ground.

Staying true to his reputation as Vlad the Impaler, he laughed at the whirlwind of blood and disarray surrounding him, even as those endless, heartbroken tears dribbled from his chin.

...

Alucard woke in a state.

He hadn't thought of _her_ in an unforgivably long time.

It was amazing what detail his memory still served him with. Each strand of her platinum hair was placed in meticulous detail. The sensation of tearing through that filth's chest cavity, cracking his ribs, then reveling in the choked cries of desperation as that foul monster died watching his own heart crushed before his eyes.

It was all so _real_.

The dark haired vampire closed his eyes again more tightly to rid himself of the memory only to face another onslaught of images. These were far more tolerable yet exceedingly more agonizing.

They were of Artemy's sweet face smiling up at him when she told him she was joining a convent. Then the memory of how angry he became and how many times he _commanded_ that she choose another lifestyle. It made him feel ill.

The scent of her virgin blood pulsing through her veins. The sound of her erratic heartbeat when he pushed her up against the stone wall with the full intent of drinking her only to give her a small kiss. At which, she promptly slapped him across the face with a peach colored blush painted prettily across the bridge of her nose.

A smile crossed his face at the memory.

He had chosen to let her do what made her happy, or whatever well masked emotions she felt toward the institution. If it helped her sleep at night, to ward off her own demons, then it was good enough for Vlad Dracula, Alucard, The Count, No-Life King, or any other aliases he went by. She knew what he was, she saw his every mistake when she looked into his eyes as a small child with so little fear it was almost disappointing. She accepted his sins and forgave him endlessly. Even now he couldn't regret allowing her to go down that path of immaculate rectitude. Even when he knew the deplorable consequences of his ignorance.

Imagining that she was safe with God was a result far more fulfilling than any hateful rage he could conjure toward his negligence at the moment. After all of this time he couldn't regret that she had died rather than become the darkness as he had.

And with that thought in mind, he found enough peace to allow sleep to find him once more.

* * *

**Phobetor (n): **

**1. The son of Hypnos, god of sleep, is the god of nightmares. He walks in dreams, a nightmarish figure, inflicting fear on those who deserved it.**

Please Review! Be it a flame, criticism or otherwise, I really appreciate it either way.

This is my first Hellsing story and it's _intended_ to be a one-shot, though it may not stay that way. I have a story half-written explaining the background behind this.

I rewrote some of it to clarify for the incoming story. I hope it's not too OOC, I'm trying hard to keep everyone in character.

The translation for what the Russian soldier said:

"Poor little thing. It didn't have to be this way, though I must admit she was quite the beauty, is she not?"

Also, pronunciation for _Красотой _sounds like:_ "krasnyj_".

(I'm only just learning Russian, so if anyone is able to correct my spelling or grammar you'd be a lifesaver!)


	2. Dalliance

_Dalliance (n):_

_A brief love affair._

* * *

"You've got to be kidding! Please check again?" A twenty-year-old begged through the small opening in the thick plane of glass meant to stop bullets. She wondered if it was rated against insane college girls.

The frumpy orange haired woman hiding behind the glass rolled her eyes and tapped her long fake nails on her keyboard loudly as if to punctuate her frustration, "Sorry miss but there's no check by that routin' number, I'm 'fraid you'll have to take this up with your employer."

The hard 'r's of her thick southern accent somehow made this whole experience a little more demeaning. The girl frowned at the woman behind the glass and wondered how the teller got her hair to stand up like that. She looked like one of those troll dolls her parents had from the 1990's.

You see, her family was against the whole college experience so when she brought up the plan to go abroad for the last semester of senior year they basically called her a witch and (being the mature adults they were) _un_invited her to both Thanksgiving and Christmas because "she was being childish". Go figure.

This was just another of life's many ironies.

'_Eh, who need's 'em_,' she thought with a small frown. She had a job and her friends were coming with her across the great big Lake Atlantic to indulge in Europe's wealth of history, much to mommy and daddy's dismay.

Her parents were strict Baptists. Her father: a preacher. Her mother: a Sunday school teacher. As she grew up she made the (_very_) conscious decision to quit attending church. Her mother thought of her as a blaspheming heathen for choosing college over God's great word. "God's great plan" for Angelica, according to her omnipotent parents, was to become a Sunday school teacher like her mom and to marry a good Christian boy from their bustling little town. Total population 367 in beautiful Middle-Of-Nowhere, Kansas USA.

The fact that she was dropped in the middle of cornfields and southern twangs with her impressively nihilistic nature was a cruel irony that no God would ever have the indecency to subject someone to.

The _real_ plan was to become a neurobiologist; also much to her parents' dismay.

Evolution was such an outlandish concept that her parents actually thought the human brain was an organ to promote God's almighty word. You know, instead of a 3-pound mass of interconnected neural cells that use electrochemicals to complete any task from solving intricate arithmetic to spontaneously combusting into creative thought.

Heaven? Hell? Angelica didn't know which was more laughable.

Thus far in her journey to go abroad she had overcome crazy foot-washing Baptists and maxed out student loans, so this last financial bump was the final hurdle before the finish line. The check was due before 6pm and if she couldn't get it to the bursar before that time Ohio State University would refund her deposits and give the plane ticket to another student.

That could _not_ happen.

Then, of course, as if to poke her in the eye, fate decided that her boss would stunt her pay the day before the final deposit was due just because of some intellectual argument she had with a patron about ecumenism in the Catholic Church and how it will never happen.

It wasn't _her_ fault they walked out without paying. That was their good Christian moral compass guiding them out the door.

Nearly shaking with wrought disappointment, Angelica slouched against the counter in defeat.

"Could you print out a copy of my remaining balance? I just want to see." She asked dejectedly as the woman gave her the most pitiful look.

"Checkin' or savin's?"

"Checking."

The woman's long orange finger nails ticked and tapped away until the vibrato of the printer rang out through the busy bank as it spat out a summary of her meager funds. She was almost surprised when moths didn't fly out of the noisy machine. Even though she knew there wasn't enough, she needed to see it for herself.

Her wallet already hurt just thinking about giving the University of Ohio another two thousand three hundred and fifty five dollars, and seventy-three _extra_ cents to make up for the bounced check from last month. As if the greedy bastards hadn't ravished her credit score enough.

The orange nailed woman tucked the paper through the small communication porthole and grimaced her saggy face. Wait, maybe she was smiling.

Looking down the page quickly Angelica's jaw fell slack.

"Wait. This is wrong," she leaned against the counter, trying to stick her head through the small rectangular cut-out in the glass, but instead only succeeded at smushing it against her forehead, "It says here that a check was deposited for..." she slid her finger across the page to show her the number, "that is a typo." though she hated to admit it, "My paycheck is $400 twice a month, not $4,000. They must have goofed up and wrote an extra zero by accident."

The woman arched a drawn-on orange eyebrow and took the page through the communication hole before turning back to the computer screen to type something. Then paused her search to say, "It says here that a check was deposited in _your name_ by a company called Qiyamtha LLC. with the memo 'scholarship'." The teller's head rolled to the side to quirk an eyebrow at Angelica's saucer sized eyes, "Now, is there somethin' _else_ I can do for you or are you just gonna hold up my line all day?"

Angelica meekly argued, "Bu-but I work at Applebee's-"

"And what does that sign up there say?" The woman pointed to the 'Wells Fargo' sign above their heads. She raised one eyebrow a few millimeters, "where does it say up there that I give a damn?" She then turned to the rest of the line and waved a new patron to her booth.

As Angelica opened her mouth to argue with the rude gesture she felt a pair of hands slide over her hips before pulling her into a big bear hug, lifting her body effortlessly as she squealed and giggled.

The mocha haired, cerulean eyed, beautiful man over her shoulder was Jace. The love of Angelica's life.

She waved at the teller with a grateful smile, although she was fairly certain the woman flashed a far ruder gesture. But Angelica returned her attention to her boyfriend unperturbed.

Angelica felt her smile wobble slightly at that handsomely diabolical smirk on his slightly stubbly face.

Jace was perfect. He was a business major. They just so happened to take the same intro to biology class freshman year and were paired as lab partners. So for four hours every week Angelica had to keep herself from acting like a total moron. Until he finally asked her to come with him for coffee after class one day and sparks flew instantly.

He was applying to financial advisor jobs in Manhattan and Angelica planned to follow him to Colombia University to pursue a doctorate and become the neuroscientist to discover where spontaneous creative thought came from.

They planned to get married once they got stable jobs in the city, or at least Angelica did.

Jace, he, uh.

Let's just say they were raised _very_ differently.

Where Angelica was raised with modesty and fear in the face of PDA under God's vindictive wrath, Jace was raised with a certain level of comfort around the concept of coitus. His mom and dad were life long New Yorkers and absentee parents so he basically raised himself on the streets of Brooklyn. This meant he had _plenty_ of experience around the fairer sex. Angelica wasn't jealous, what he did before he met her was completely different from what they had now and it didn't affect their future in any way.

It just happened to be an area of their relationship that caused the most trouble.

The only thing from her father's preaching that ever stuck in Angelica's head was the concept of abstinence until marriage.

Angelica's theoretical husband could sleep with loose women all day every day until he met her. It wasn't a religious thing; she simply wanted her husband to be the only guy she ever slept with. Then she wouldn't have anything to compare to. She would never want to mess up her theoretical children's theoretical lives by leaving them for a beautiful Brazilian named Josè Estrada: a fire eater who spent his young life running with gypsies and surfing each and every day to sculpt his perfectly tanned body into a living Adonis.

But enough theoretical adultery…

"You'll never guess what happened!" She kissed Jace's scraggily cheek, then rubbed a hand brusquely over his freshly trimmed buzz cut, "Someone accidentally deposited a huge check in my account."

Just as he opened his mouth to answer Angelica's excitement crashed with a rushed realization, "-maybe it's illegal. To keep it, I mean. It could be money laundering or extortion or something." The spot between her eyebrows creased ever so slightly, "Maybe I'll just call the cops-"

"-No way!" his eyes jumped to her little blue shoulder bag, "If you touch that phone I'm tackling you." His bulky arm wrapped around her shoulders, smooshing her face tightly to his chest chattering away with his thick Brooklyn accent as he lead her out the door into the crisp autumn air, "we're goin' to Europe!"

Jace sounded somehow more excited than Angelica felt. That was all he needed to say.

…

Stretched like a cat across Jace's black faux leather couch was a girl with medium length hair spilling over her boyfriend's lap. His fingers laced through her hair as they cracked up at some hilariously (pathetically?) bad sci-fi movie called 'Sharktopus vs Dinocrock'.

The credits started rolling when Jace began speaking, not for a second looking from the screen, "we could get married ya know. Over there, I mean. It would be the chance of a lifetime." He swooped one arm out in front of them. "Think about it: a six months honeymoon all across Europe. Who can say they did that?"

She wanted to smile but the apprehensive murmur in her heart told her hold her horses. So she gave a terse smirk and rolled her eyes up to look at him, "oh stop, you're just getting my hopes up."

He slid her hand into his and curled his fingers over her warm ones, using them to warm his perpetually chilly fingers. Blue eyes fell onto her deep green, "I _do_ mean it Ang. We should get married over there so we don't have to deal with our parents anymore." He smirked, admiring her face lovingly.

Angelica's heart went aflutter, "…seriously?"

"Serious as a heart attack." He promised, smoothing a thumb across her cheek, crossing his heart with the other hand's index finger.

Angelica's smile ebbed to widen, "Lets do it then," her eyes glittered with excitement, "I love you."

Dropping a hand low over the side of her hip he responded by slowly rolling his thumb up and down over the fabric before one catching it and pulled it up, letting his cool skin flit across hers. She bit her lip, but he leaned down and kissed the protruding flesh, easing her lip between his in this bizarre upside down position.

"I love you too _Mrs_. Cafone." He mumbled the words against her lips. Small kisses trailed from her lips to ear before taking it between his teeth.

She rolled her eyes with a disappointed sigh. She knew where this was going. His fingers danced over her back then pulled up her shirt, brushing his fingertips under the wire of her bra.

She shouldered him away with a little squirming dance and shot to a standing position. But even as she tried to escape he gently guided a hand over her wrist, pulling her to his lap like a desperate octopus. He was something out of the exorcist tonight. He latched his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. With one arm encircling her hips the other hand hooked its fingers around the waistband of her sweatpants.

This time she shoved away with force, jumping to her feet with a small scowl.

Pain blossoming in her chest, she remained silent for a second as his face dropped into an angry frown.

"I knew you weren't serious!" her voice broke the brittle tension.

He groaned and flopped back to the couch with his hands over his face, "We've been together for four fuckin' years. it's not like God's gonna send you to Hell if you do stuff with me if we're gettin' married anyways." His hands slid away only enough to glare at her through his fingers, "Your parents really screwed you up."

That blossoming pain again. It was the feeling of being unimportant, you're your emotions and feelings don't matter to the person who mattered most in the world. Angelica was angry. But rather than argue, she came to a more logical conclusion,

"Then let's break up." She paused to gage his expression as is shifted from offensive to defensive, "There's no reason to be with someone who isn't right for you. Which I'm obviously not." It hurt like Hell, but this wasn't a principle she was willing to budge on, "don't marry me if you don't like the way I do things, or the way my parents do things. I can talk about them however I want, but no one else has that right. Not even you."

Jace knew better than to talk when she was on a rant like this, he'd just wait until she finished to apologize for the comment about her parents.

A few tears dropped from her face, "It's not like I have you caged here all to my self." Memory of his past infidelities dashed across her thoughts, "As you've proven time and time again." She folded her arms and turned to storm out into the hallway with that final accusation.

Maybe tonight was a good night to break the 'no drinking cheap wine until after midterms' rule…

"That's where you're wrong Angelica." He confided softly, "I _am_ trapped. And I _hate_ that I'm trapped. Even if I wanted to, breaking up isn't an option."

"How romantic." Angelica's hand fell to the door handle with the full intent of turning it and strutting away, but instead it hesitated just long enough to hear Jace speak.

"Even if you don't like it, that's how it is. We are supposed to go to Europe _together_. Not some pair of exes fighting over stupid shit. I'm not gonna break up with you because I know what's waiting over that huge ocean is better than some stupid fight about sex."

She didn't want to, in fact she told herself she wouldn't, but now she was turned around facing him as he eyed her nervously, unsure of what went on behind the screen of her eyes.

"This isn't going to change when we land in France." She explained firmly.

"Alright, alright." he held up his hands in defeat, "my bad. I just figured you'd want a little of this after saying yes to my romantic proposal." He sniffed like a shunned child.

Angelica whiffed an airy laugh, he cracked a smile. He could be such a little kid sometimes.

…

The days before the trip went slowly yet quickly at the same time. Finals ended so Angelica had a few weeks of chilly winter weather to spend with her _fiancé_ (oh she just loved calling him that!) before they would leave for their new life in Europe.

Jace was great during that time. He pretty much lived at her place for winter break, making a total of four of them in a one bedroom apartment.

It was certainly…. Cozy.

Angelica's roommate, Lydia, who also happened to be her best friend thought Jace was the hottest thing to ever bless the world _("Anatomically perfect… must…mate….now…")_. Even for a physics major, the redhead was admittedly a bit of a whirlwind of vapid illusions. She was one of those people who could become friends with her worst enemy, she never held grudges or got too angry about anything.

On the other hand, Angelica's _other_ roommate, Kristine, hated when Jace stayed over. She thought he was an idiot because he was a business major instead of a more 'practical' major in the sciences like the three of them.

…

Their flight landed in France, the city of love.

For Jace, at least.

Girls followed him like lost dogs. Angelica tried to ignore them knowing that he wouldn't give them the time of day, but her defenses were growing weak as she saw the glimmers of smiles and suggestive winks he would dish out like candy on Halloween.

They went to see a play for their Ancient Arts class. Phantom of the Opera. She tried to argue that 'Phantom' was written in the 1900's, so it wasn't really 'ancient', but no one would hear it.

Angelica watched in awe of the beautiful costumes and music. She had never been very fond of the performance arts, but this was really something else. At the end she could do nothing but stand with the other patrons and clap her little heart out.

"That was _awful_!" Lydia, tossed her program into the garbage as we left the theater, "how could a girl be _that_ dumb? I mean the phantom was a total monster!"

Angelica wholly disagreed and shrugged, "hey, I thought Erik was kind of sweet. Everyone rejected him because he was different, but inside he had a beautiful soul. Doesn't that count for something?"

Lydia looked like Angelica had just told her Santa Claus was actually a hobo in a red suit, "no way! He, like, _killed_ people. Like, _a lot_ of people! And then he tried to _kill_ Raul! He was the only normal character in the whole show."

They walked out of the theater onto the street with the dozen other students who were either raving or ranting their personal review.

"Eh, I disagree. Raul was supposed to signify a choice. Of course Christine, the poor girl with no family, chose the super cute, super wealthy, baritone with everything going for him." Angelica watched Lydia's eyes snap to Jace as he walked ahead to avoid being wrapped into the discussion, "But his personality was pretty flat if you ask me. Phantom was charming and talented, plus he helped Christine _become_ what Raul fell in love with. It seems a little unfair to-"

Lydia leeched onto Jace's arm with a saccharine tone that made Angelica's teeth hurt, "-What do _you_ think, Jace? Do you think the lovely damsel should have ended up with the good guy of the bad guy?"

He gave his girlfriend a cross glance to judge her opinion. But she only smirked and rose a thought-provoking eyebrow. He made no move to brush off the overly affectionate roommate as he answered with his typical blasé attitude, "I think that Christine was in love with the Phantom, but both he and Christine knew that Raul was better for her, and that's why he let her go in the end."

Angelica could have clapped, she was so proud.

"Eww! So you think that the bad guy won?" Lydia scrunched her face up at him cutely.

"No, I think they both lost." He answered with a hint of mystique, "I _do_ think that Raul got the girl in the end. But the Phantom left an indelible mark on her so Raul could never really win the girl at the end." Jace said, obviously trying not to look over his shoulder at Angelica's shocked expression.

What a depressing outlook! But it was so deep and beautiful and… sexy? Angelica rushed to catch up with the pair and they stopped at a little sandwich shop.

Jace didn't speak to Angelica for the rest of the day.

In fact, it would be another week before they saw each other. Between classes and exploring the cities neither seemed to have time for romance.

That also happened to be when the nightmares began.

Angelica had never been one to dream much. People would discuss their exciting nighttime adventures and all she could do was sit back and enjoy their stories. Hence the anxiety over her newly evolved sense of whimsy. None were ever the same. Some seemed to last whole lifetimes. She would be born, she would get to know her parents, she would learn about the world and a whole new language, her parents would die, she would fall in love. And they always seemed to end the same: with her dying horribly. Not only would she die horribly but she would also die under the same, or very similar, circumstances. It was to the point where the dreams felt more like déjà vu.

As the days passed Angelica tried to bring up her strange nightmares with Jace but he was a total zombie. It was like their relationship no longer mattered to him since landing in France.

Ten days into their trip and the group was now in Germany. Jace was distant and callous, spending most of his time with friends instead of his girlfriend. Which was why Angelica was surprised when a tooth-achingly dulcet voice jerked her out of a 'Neuroanatomical Coloring Book'.

"Ohhhh Angelica!" Lydia sung with a smile that could kill a cat, "there's an EDM concert tonight and Kristine wants to get faded. Look!" she pulled out some small bag and removed some white tablets with one star in the center, "it's called 'blue star' it's supposed to be as good as Molly!"

Angelica's chest tightened fearfully at the sight, "Get rid of that!" she swatted at the bag with her textbook but Lydia pulled the baggy out of range. Angelica glanced over her shoulders frantically to look out for police or the Feds or a professor or her mom.

The coast was clear.

_For now_.

"Oh quit being such a lame-o. Mommy and daddy will never know." Lydia held that seductively dangerous smile,

"Oh, and _Jace_ is gonna be there..."

…

"Pflehhh!" Swoshh. "Hic-plehhg!" Frushh.

Each time she retched there seemed to be more in her stomach to expel. She hung her head hung over the toilet and sobbed. She couldn't remember anything from the past few hours, only flickers like on an old projector.

What was she doing here? She wasn't a drug user! She never abstained from alcohol, but _ecstasy_?! She was a future neuroscientist! And she came to some damn rave this to get some stupid boy's attention?

Another heave of muscles wracked her train of thought.

Oh how far she had fallen.

As Angelica sobbed and gagged alone in a stall she heard the door to the bathroom squeeze open and a pair of voices whispering to one another conspiratorially.

"...do you think she'll be mad at me?" one silken feminine voice echoed on the tiles.

"You're not serious are you? She's in _love_ with him! Just 'cause a guy's got a dick doesn't mean you can screw him," a valley girl slurred judgmentally, "I thought you guys were friends, what's wrong with you!"

Angelica recognized these voices. Lydia and Kristine. And they weren't talking about some a stranger.

They were talking about her.

"Oh my god is that blood?!" Lydia shrieked, stumbling backward into Kristine, who pushed her off, "Holy shit it is!"

"No way it's probably just jello or something." The deeper voiced girl determined, "Lets figure out where Ang is lurking and get out of this dump."

Angelica rolled over onto her back, stretching her arm under the door to try and get their attention only to watch their highlighter colored sneakers squeak into the glitter littered hallway. Her hand slapped the ground pitifully.

Lydia spun around muttering 'wait a second' to Kristine.

"Ang?" Lydia pulled Angelica's door open and the blood drained from her pretty freckled face. For a second Angelica thought she would puke all over her. That would truly be the cherry on top of her night.

"Oh my god! Kris! Call an ambulance!"

Angelica didn't remember much after that, just peacefulness.

* * *

Shockingly clear red eyes faded into dull orbs.

Alucard rolled his eyes.

Seres's 'episodes' were growing more frequent in number and length. These strange occurrences where Seres Victoria would drop off the side of the earth must have begun before his return to reality. Integra attempted explaining them away, but from where he stood it was just plain rude.

They were mid-conversation! Couldn't that French fairy-ass twat wait another fifteen… twenty minutes? It's not like she was going anywhere.

Boredom swiftly took over when she got like this. Extra time made Alucard think. And he _hated_ thinking. Especially with all of these strange killings lately. They had him itching for answers. All were virgins, many of them blondes with blue eyes. This normally would not have gotten Hellsing's attention. The mild threats made on Integra's own life were what provoked Alucard into saying something.

The very thought made his skin prickle dangerously. No one threatened Integra, or Seres, unless they wanted a _real_ fight. No one really knew the agony they beckoned when it came to provoking Alucard.

His beautiful blonde virgins. They were his only pride. They were everything to him, and he was everything to them.

Integra took on the role of 'mom' since his return and Seres had taken on the role of 'sister', though he truly wished it didn't have to be that way.

She was the little sister who was dating the guy she ate who lives inside her head.

It wasn't so much that he hated Pip Bernadotte, in fact he admired him for refusing to become a vampire like Seres had. Alucard simply hated the competition. It was a tug of war. On one side there was Alucard trying to speak to Seres about a rather pertinent case. The other side was Pip, still attempting to show Seres his love and affection long after death.

Integra explained that Seres had bonded quite considerably with the lone soul residing within her during Alucard's long absence and that she would go on these mental trips into her own mind as means of communication. The communications were schizophrenic in nature. She would daze out and become completely unreachable for extended periods of time.

And now here Alucard was._ Waiting_. Another thing he abhorred. Everything had to be put on hold for her lovey-dovey trances.

All he wanted to know was whether or not they were going to Ireland. If he didn't receive an answer in

5…

4….

3...

"Quick! The peanut butter!" The blonde shouted throwing her arms around excitedly as if swatting spiders, "Get it away! Get it awa- " She froze mid swat and blinked her pretty eyes at Alucard who appeared smack dab between amused and honestly afraid for her mental health.

Sere's whole body relaxed, "oh… you're still here." A shit-eating grin appeared as she scratched the back of her head nervously, "Sorry! We were just- I was just-" her whole body sank, defeated, "…you know what? Never mind."

"I see you've set aside this special time to embarrass yourself. Well done." He clapped as amusement clearly won the battle over his expression, "And of course I'm still here. I _live_ here." Alucard grew slightly more serious, or as serious as Alucard ever really got, "As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted," Seres seemed to shrink away uneasily, poking her index fingers together with a sheepish smile, "What are the details on the IRA case and do we get to take the EC120 to Belfast?"

Seres stood straight up and hit her fist to her open palm then snapped, "Right! The helipad is still under construction from the _last time_," she added accusingly, Alucard's smile broadened at the memory, "so if Sir Integra gives us the order then we would have to take public transport." Alucard's expression took a turn for sinister. Seres didn't like it, remembering when he had her locked away in a coffin under the belly of a plane. She still suffered from intense nightmares.

Seres then gave a vague wave and started running toward the stairs, "Bu-but we're _not_ going to do that, so let me check with Sir Integra again about the details and I'll get back to you later."

She had taken to wearing longer versions of her typical crimson uniform so when she barreled up the stairs he couldn't see her lovely backside peaking out from under her micro skirt. Alucard didn't approve.

"Oh! And I almost forgot!" She spun then snapped to attention before calling out, "Sir Integra wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience."

The words echoed off of every hard surface of the basement before the door clicked closed.

Alucard's semi permanent smile wavered slightly, wondering what he'd done to gain an audience with his master this evening.

* * *

It was cold. Everything was cold. Her fingers, toes, lips, ears and nose. The scratchy wool babushka she wore over her head did nothing to fight the bone piercing temperature. Hard slate was somehow comfortable beneath her head.

There was yelling in the distance. The soft cries of a woman joined the echoes, they sounded somehow closer.

"Artemy, побеги́!" the female's voice came forcefully from the left.

The woman was telling her to run. Angelica's eyes fluttered open, her vantage point from beneath a bed was clear enough to understand that a murder had just taken place.

There was a woman, arm stretched out desperately toward her with blood everywhere. It took a moment to notice the man on all fours over her, he was so dark. A long tongue seemed to elongate further to lap up blood from the woman's cracked skull as it seeped everywhere.

Luminescent crimson eyes pierced the dank cold night as they met hers wordlessly. For a moment she thought he was going to kill her too. But he hesitated, only for a heartbeat, but in that hesitation she knew she was safe. He dipped his head back down to the woman below and continued tearing at her flesh with grotesque slurping. It gave Angelica a chance to pull herself further under the bed to hide. She bumped into something cold and squishy.

The marred flesh of a man's face looked was blue from death. There was a drawn, dehydrated look to him. He looked horrifyingly familiar and suddenly cold fear rippled through her ice cold veins telling her to get the hell away.

Subconscious fear drove her to scuttle out from under the bed, toward the murderer. The man's black hair was long and straight; he slowly raised his head seemingly frustrated by her inability to remain still while he consumed the woman.

But she didn't fear him, at least, not nearly as much as the dead man under the bed.

Angelica came to understand that she was only a child when she looked at her tiny soft hands. She looked back up to the monstrous creature and watched as he returned to his meal. Rather than run or cry, she stood and ambled out of the door behind him with zero urgency.

"_Artemy_." This deep velveteen voice came from behind her, "_Ţi-e frică?_" (Are you afraid?)

Angelica couldn't understand what he said, but she turned to face him anyway, feeling nothing.

Not fear, not happiness, not apprehension, not aggression. Just nothing. This response in itself seemed to answer his question as sharp teeth emerged in a wide smile. Out of seemingly nowhere a large hand fell over her head affectionately, familiarly, springing a few strands of platinum blonde hair out from under the babushka in front of her eyes. She blinked then looked up at the exceedingly tall being towering above. He did not look so frightening now without the blood all over his face. Quite to the contrary, he looked somewhat troubled.

"Vino cu mine, copil." He said, anguished smile unfaltering.

'Come with me, child.' She translated automatically in her head. She couldn't really understand what he said, could she?

"Что вы сказали?" she uttered before covering her mouth, unsure of what language just came from her mouth. (What did you say?)

A laugh danced in his deep red eyes, "_Rusă_?"

Angelica had never been good at learning new languages, but suddenly she was able to pull apart the core of the man's words as if it was nothing. It was almost like she had heard it many times before. He had asked if she was Russian. For all she knew, he was right, so she tried to agree. But this strange language came instead of her common American English, "Да, я считаю." (Yes, I think.)

Some kind of emotion came over the dangerous man. Relief maybe?

"_Ne vom intilni din nou, fetita._" The large hand slid from the top of her head and the man dissipated into black nothingness, fading into the shadows. (We will meet again, little girl.)

Looking around with perverse calm at the two bodies that lay in dehydrated messes on the wooden floor she felt the initial emotions of empathy and concern turn quickly to apathy and relief.

For whatever reason she felt more desolation at that man's departure than at the death of her own parents.

…

Angelica's eyes slid open, the strange nightmare evaporating. Her head felt woozy, her stomach of weak constitution. But she was alive and far more thankful than she really expected to be.

Wait. What exactly happened? The last thing she remembered was...

"She's up!" A pair of girly brown eyes popped into view, "You were all like 'bluh!' And we were like 'woah she's fuckin' _twisted'_ then you like passed out and we were so freaked!"

Angelica tried to laugh at Lydia's rendition of the saga but it was too exhausting so she let her eyes flutter closed and tried to will herself back into that dream.

The panic stricken screech of her a man sent her scrambling, eyes wide.

"You gave her WHAT?" Jace yelled toward a traitorous Kristine who Angelica hadn't even noticed in the corner of the white hospital room.

"…it was just a little Molly! She was being a total drag! It's not like _you_ were any help _Don Juan_." Kristine shot back, shoving Jace's shoulder hard.

"You're disgusting. I can't believe..." Angelica couldn't hear his low accusation, though she was sure it could have described him as well.

"What did you just say!" Kristine screeched like a harpy.

Lydia frowned and muttered random funny things about Kristine's 'walk of shame' outfit to try and distract her. Angelica closed her eyes and listened as breakable, and probably very expensive, objects were thrown about and trays were flipped and not so nice things were yelled as Lydia tried to calm the pair.

An unnaturally tense calm settled over the room. A presence seemed to silence the arguing pair as a new, warm, peaceful voice intercepted Jace's angry accusations.

"I insist the two of you take your issues elsewhere. My patience is wearing thin." The thinly veiled threat was terrifying in his gentle, Northern European accented tenor. She opened one eye to see the blurred image of a man of medium build wearing a lab coat, "Alright now," he chirped, far happier than he seemed moments ago, "if you two are quite done, you may leave." When no one seemed to react, the doctor cleared his throat,

"You have to the count of _one_ to get out of my sight." He growled threateningly in a low, calm voice.

Kristine and Lydia disappeared from the room instantly and Angelica was left alone with her (ex?) boyfriend and the doctor whose blonde hair and handsome mid-thirties face were something out of vogue magazine. He tinkered with her IV bags and took some notes from the monitor on which they hung.

"You're a very lucky girl, Angelica." He offered with a sincere smile, "by some miracle you managed to survive the night with only 10% blood volume. A physiological impossibility." She stilled. 10% blood volume? He hovered a hand over the top of her head, she could feel his body heat emanating from the appendage, "I'm going to need your signature here, here and here." He indicated with his finger across some document dismissively.

Angelica's eyes opened fully and raised an eyebrow at Jace who offered nothing in his expression. Her voice felt caught, but she somehow managed to croak, "what happened to me?"

The man glared at the paper then closed his eyes with a bright smile. "Nothing you should worry about. You reacted rather poorly to the cocaine-"

"Cocaine?!" she screamed squeakily. Jace twitched and folded his arms, looking away from her, dejected.

"Yes," the doctor answered simply as if she should have known what substances were in her body at all times. Angelica wanted to die of embarrassment, what if her parents found out? What if she was kicked off the trip? What if she was expelled?

"…Your stomach and throat were riddled with acid burns..."

Her lips parted in silent shock. She didn't _feel_ sick. This had to be a joke.

"It's not a joke, Angelica."

Her eyes widened.

"Somehow your body has completely regenerated itself. Your body is perfectly intact, which is why you must sign this." His personality was cataclysmic. His calm, honeyed demeanor was somehow dark and frightening as if he wouldn't spare a thought about cutting her blood fusion tubes and walking away if she proved insubordinate.

Angelica lifted the sheet with weak stick like fingers, dragging the needle in her hand with her, and started to read. Heat from Jace's guilty stare was highly distracting.

"What's this part about a 'study'?" she slid her finger across the sentence with her finger so the doctor could explain it.

The blonde man didn't even look before brushing her off, "that's nothing to worry about, your case is simply wracking my superiors minds so they would like to use your data in some research."

It was pretty weird that she healed so quickly from something that should have killed her.

She signed the paper with her sloppy signature and initialed in a few places then handed it back to him, eyeing his lab coat with her brows scrunched together.

Then she realized something out of place, "where's you're name tag, doctor...?"

A smile fought for power over the frown that wanted to overtake his face. The world around her seemed to melt as he pushed down the plunger of a syringe into her IV.

There was no rush to fight. She felt no emotions, only emptiness.

And all she could think was that she should have just listened to her crazy parents after all.


End file.
